Eternity
by Bromigo1
Summary: I'm trying to make this story a learn as you go story, so no summary. I hope you enjoy though.
1. Chapter 1

The year was 1596, but tonight was not like any other night. Granted it was quiet for most, but tonight was the greatest night of a young couple's life, the birth of their son.

"Push! Push!" the doctor shouted to the young, soon-to-be mother laying on the bed in labor.

The young woman screams as one she pushes one last time.

*cries *

"it's a boy!" The doctor shouts.

"Beth..." a strong, young, male voice said, almost a whisper.

"Say hello to your son, Grant." Beth says to her husband with tears in her eyes. Grant gazes down at his newly born son. He lifts him up into his arms and holds him close. The infant stops crying and wiggles in his father's arms.

"What will you name him?" the doctor inquires the new parents. "I've always like the name 'Brock'." Beth says laying on the bed, exhausted from the hours of labor she has just gone through.

"Yes... Brock." Grant says at last, entranced with the sleeping figure of his newborn son. "Brock Francis Anderson." he finishes.

**8 years later**

"Mom! Mom!" a young voices calls out. A young woman looks up from her work in the kitchen and sees a small, muddy figure running into the house.

"Brock!" The woman exclaimed. "Why are you so filthy?!"

"I was playing near the river with John and all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this huge mud pit appears out of nowhere and then..." Beth, the young mother, rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and looks down at her young son going on about his adventure with his best friend, eyes wide with awe as he relates the tale of his 'near death experience' with the mud pit.

"... and then this huge bear appears out of nowhere..."

"A huge bear?" the young mother asked, not buying anything her son was telling her.

"Well... maybe it wasn't huge." The young boy relented. Beth looked at her son. "And it might have been a squirrel." He muttered. Beth laughed and looked down at the small figure of her son, who just smiled up at her.

"You'd better go get cleaned up before your father comes home. He'll be home from the market any minute now and you wouldn't want to miss Jane's performance tonight, would you?"

"No ma'am!" Brock said quickly and turned to fill the wash bucket from the well.

**About and hour later**

"Beth!" A strong, masculine voice called out. "I'm home!" The man looked around his home until his eyes rested on the face of his beautiful wife.

"Grant!" Beth said as her husband approached her and planted a kiss on her lips with his whiskered lips.

"Daddy!" Brock cried out with his little, young voice as he ran towards his father with his arms stretched out. The strong man scooped up his small son and gave him a massive bear hug.

"How's my big, strong boy?" Grant asked with a massive smile on his face. "You're actually clean when I come home... what's the occasion.

"Daaadd..." Brock said, dragging out the word as he did so. Grant looked at his wife quizzically.

"The Christmas festival." Beth said to her husband, in a mocking tone that had connotation that he should have remembered.

"Oh that's right!" Grant said while hitting the side of his head with his palm. Beth just shook her head and returned to what she was doing in the kitchen.

"Mmmm... something smells awfully good." Grant said as he stepped into the kitchen. He tried to reach for one of the small cakes that his wife had just taken out of the small oven. Beth swatted his hand away.

"Nu-uh... I told Brock that he couldn't have one until the festival tonight, and that goes for you too, Mister." Grant looked at his wife pleading with his eyes, but Beth was un-relenting in her decision.

"Fiiiinnee." Grant said defeated, dragging out the word as he did so, sounding almost exactly like his son had.

"So, how was it at the market today?" Beth inquired her husband. Grant looked at her and began to speak.

"Well... it was..." he stopped and looked at his son playing with a rather large beetle in the common area behind them. "Brock?" Grant started. Brock stopped playing with the beetle and looked up at this father, waiting for him to continue. "Could you please go water the horses?" Brock got up and let out a loud sigh.

"Yes sir." he said, sounding anything but happy about it. As he went out the front door to their small cottage, Grant diverted his attention back on his wife, who was standing there waiting for her question to be answered.

"Well..." Grant began again. He paused as he though of the right words to say. "I got the feed for the chickens." He said at last.

"That's good." Beth said.

"But..." Grant began again. "I don't think it's going to be enough for the whole winter." He concluded. Beth looked worried.

"Grant, if the chickens die or can't lay eggs..."

"I know, I know... we won't be able to feed ourselves, let alone our son, and that's even if we do have to sell the horses." As he finished saying this Brock came back in, still disgruntled about him having to go out in his clean clothes to water the horses.

"Are you ready to go, kiddo?" Grant asked his young son. Brock's eyes lit up as his father said this. This time of year was always one of Brock's favorites. It was always so joyful and all the people were always so happy, not to mention all the sweets and other foods that he was going to eat, ranging from sweet potatoes to a variety of cakes. Nothing was going to ruin this night for Brock, nothing in the whole world!

"Yes!" Brock said excitedly.

"I'm almost ready, I just have to take the last of the cakes out the oven." Beth said as she took the last cake out of the oven and placed it in a hand-made wicker basket. "Brock, could you help your father load these into the cart?" Brock ran over to the small table that his mother was standing next to and took a basket full of cakes out to the cart in front of their cottage. Grant came out behind his son and took two cakes out after placing the basket into the cart.

"Eat this quickly." he said as he ate his in two large bites. "Oh..." he said with his mouth full of cake. "Don't tell your mother." Brock smiled at this father and laughed as he took a bite out of his cake.

After they were finished they went back into the house. Beth looked up at her the two figures who stepped through the front door. She stared at them for a moment as she looked at the crumbs littering her sons face. She looked up at her husband and glared at him.

"What?" Gran asked innocently. Beth walked over to Brock and wiped the crumbs off his face and stood in front of her husband. "So I gave the kid a cake..." Grant began, but was cut short when his wife took a decent sized crumb from out of his bushy beard. Grant looked at his wife blushing and said with a nervous chuckle. "Oh... that."


	2. Gifts

"You can do this... you can do this... I can do this."

"Jane, are you okay." The blonde haired girl turned around with a start.

"Sara!" Jane said. "You scared me." Her friend just looked at her and shrugged.

"Sorry." Sara said. Jane laughed and walked towards her friend.

"Just psyching myself up for tonight. I've never danced for the whole village before." Jane said to her friend. Sara looked at her friend, to be honest she was a little envious of her friends abilities.

"Well, I admit, it's pretty intimidating, but I'm sure you'll do fine." Sara said to her friend, trying to ease some of the tension that she was feeling.

"Jane!" a small, young voice called out from the small crowd of people beginning to gather in the center of the village, setting up for the festival that was going to take place later that night. Jane turned around and looked at the small boy running up to her.

"Hey there, little buddy." Jane said with a smile. "You're here early, aren't you?" Brock looked up at his friend smiling.

"My mom is selling cakes tonight, so me and my dad are going to help set up a stand for her." Brock said beaming, perhaps proud that his mom's cakes were going to be enjoyed by everyone, particularly himself, or maybe even proud to be showing off that he is going to a man's work tonight to his friend. "John's going to help too, he should be here soon." Brock added.

"That sounds exciting, little buddy. I have to go and finish getting ready for tonight, you know, with my performance and all." Jane said to her small friend. Brock lit up.

"Oh yeah, I can't wait." Brock said. "Hey did I tell you what me and..." he was about to add something else before he caught sight of his best friend, John. "John!" Brock called out to his friend as he ran off to meet up with him. Jane just shook her head and laughed and turned to Sara.

"What?" Jane asked her friend. Sara just shook her head and said:

"Bit of a live-wire isn't he?" Jane laughed and walked off towards the stage that she would be dancing on that night.

"Grant..." Beth began. Her husband, who was trying to sneak another one of his wife's cakes, turned around with a start. "Have you seen Brock?"

"Oh... uh, yeah, I think I saw him with John. They went over to Craig's booth to get some of his wife's homemade apple cyder." he said relieved that she wasn't on to him about his trying to sneak another cake. "Thank you, dear." Beth said as she turned around and started towards Margrethe's cyder stand. Grant turned around and was about to sneak a cake when his wife suddenly appeared behind him.

"Oh, and no more cakes." his wife whispered into his ear.

"Aww..." Grant said as he crossed his arms and stared down at his wife, who was staring right back at him. "Fine." Grant said defeated.

Brock and John were sipping at the cyder when Brock's mother came up to them. Brock smiled at his mother. "Hi Mom!" he said. Beth looked at her son with loving eyes.

"The festival begins in about an hour, so stay closes and don't wander off to far." She said as her son nodded, showing that he understood. Suddenly bells jingled and the clop of hooves on the ground were heard, resounding a drilled, monotonous sound through the village's center. Brock and his mother turned to see who it was. Of course, they all knew it was Henry Donahue, one of the wealthiest men in town. Every Christmas he would come and mingle with the poorer folk and celebrate their festival with them. Henry Donahue was a tall man with blonde hair, he had shining green eyes and always wore a smile. He was a kind and generous man, unlike his older brother, who looked more like a skeleton than a human and had the attitude of a Scrooge, especially around this time of year.

"Henry!" Brock and John called out as they ran over to Henry Donahue. Henry looked over just in time to be railroaded by two small children. Henry fell back a few steps, surprise and the force of the impact contributing.

"Hey there, little buds." Henry said regaining his composure.

"What did you bring us?!" the two children asked with wide, excited eyes looking at Henry, almost as if they were drilling into his very soul. Every Christmas Henry Donahue would bring all the children gifts, nothing to fancy, but something nice. Generally it was nicer than anything the parents could afford, which caused many of the parents to feel the need to refuse these gifts because of that fact. Henry, of course, insisted upon it, stating every time, that he did because he wanted to and it made him happy to see the children. The parents finally accepted the gifts, of course.

"Is that the only reason you two like me, because I bring you presents." The children looked up at the young man indignantly.

"No!" They both said defensively. Henry couldn't help but laugh at the two kids standing before him.

"I'm just kidding," Henry said. "I have your gifts right here." For John he took out a hat, he was always wanting a hat like his dad and once Henry caught wind of this and that John's father couldn't afford a hat for his son, he decided to buy John a simple, leather hat. John looked up at the hat joyfully.

"Thanks Henry!" John shouted gleefully. "I'm gonna go and show my dad!" John told both Henry and Brock as he ran off to find his father. Henry chuckled and looked back down at Brock.

"And for you, my good sir," Henry began. "A pair of leather boots." He said as he took the boots out of a large bag in his wagon and knelt down to present them to Brock.

"Wow Henry!" Brock shouted. "These must have cost a fortune. Henry blushed.

"Oh, it was nothing Brock." Henry stated. Behind him a loud grunt was heard.

"If you ask me," a harsh, raspy voice said. "You should have saved the money and not have bought the boots or any other of these presents." The voice belonged to Henry's older brother, Heinrich Donahue, of course he always insists on being called Mr. Donahue, and Hein... I mean Mr. Donahue is someone who you don't want to be on the bad side of. Henry stood up and looked at his older brother. Mr. Donahue looked back with his cold, sunken, beady eyes. They were a brown so dark, they looked almost black, of course to add to his intimidating features was a long crooked nose.

"Heinrich..." Henry began.

"That's Mr. Donahue to you, Mister, even if you are my brother." Henry just looked at his brother.

"Heinrich," Henry began again. "It's for the children, and you know how much I like to see the children happy." Henry concluded.

"Oh, I know." Mr. Donahue said. "It just doesn't make any sense to me."

"What doesn't make sense?" Henry asked, with a bit of sternness to his voice. Brock had never heard this in his voice before, and it gave him a feeling of uneasiness.

"The fact that you would waste your money on these little bra..." he cut himself of as he remembered that Brock was standing near by. "... These _children_." he finished, putting a note of what seemed like cynicism and sarcasm on the word 'children'.

"It's not a waste!" Henry said both angrily and indignantly.

"Whatever." Mr. Donahue said. "But, when you're all out of money because of this little charity of yours, don't come crying to me!" Mr. Donahue said as he walked away to buy some cyder.

` Henry watched his brother as he walked off, then he turned around to face Brock. He noticed that the boy had a look of discomfort in his eyes. He was a bit embarrassed and sorry about arguing with his older brother in front of the kid, but he smiled at Brock and said:

"Come on, little bud. Let's go find your parents, the festival is about to start.


End file.
